


Broken Pieces Build the Best Foundations

by Raelynn



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: David drinks his feelings, David owns a gallery in NYC, Flirting, I only believe in happy endings, M/M, Patrick is an attorney, Stevie is Adelina's granddaughter, The roses haven’t lost their money...yet, even if it takes a minute, hi david, it's patrick, nyc pizza, stoned phone calls, thc gummies, these two idiots will always fall in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28898391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raelynn/pseuds/Raelynn
Summary: David is a gallerist in NYC - until he learns that his parents have been "helping him."  He enlists the help of attorney Patrick Brewer to help him transfer ownership of Rose Gallery to his assistant, Samantha.  His best friend Stevie inherits a motel in the middle of nowhere Ontario and leaves NYC.  With nothing holding him there anymore, David follows.  But maybe he did leave something in NYC - or someone.
Relationships: (also briefly, (briefly) - Relationship, David Rose/OC (off screen), Patrick Brewer & Rachel, Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Sebastien Raine/David Rose, and off-screen
Comments: 24
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been picking at this one since November. It's outlined, and about a quarter written, and I'm actually feeling confident this time. Any new tags for a chapter will be added in the notes at the beginning.

“What the fuck do you mean, you were only trying to help?” screamed David Rose into his phone, pacing the floor of his office. “Who the fuck asked for your help?”

“Son, your mother and I were just so proud of what you were trying to do, we wanted you to be successful, to be proud of your accomplishments.”

“Oh, yes, it’s great. I’m very proud of the fact that my parents have been secretly paying off my patrons to buy the art I show here. I’m very proud that my parents had so little faith in their son that they didn’t even give him a chance to do it on his own. So proud.”

David threw himself onto the sofa in front of the window that overlooked the gallery floor down below. Workers were there now, setting up the temporary walls for the new show and getting the space ready for the art to be delivered in two days. “I thought...I actually thought when Sebastien told me he didn’t want to show his photographs here because it wasn’t a “real show” because you guys were paying people to buy the art that it was just another way he was trying to torment me and treat me like shit, to make me doubt myself.”

He was on his feet again, raking his hand through his hair. Vaguely in the back of his mind he knew he was going to regret that, the curls took the first opportunity they could to reassert themselves, but he was past caring.

“But no! For once in his fucked up miserable life, Sebastien Raine did me a fucking favor. And now I have to live with that truth, so thanks for that, too.”

“Son…” Johnny started. 

“No. Stop. We’re done having this conversation. This is going to be the last show at Rose Gallery. I can’t believe this.”

“David, stop. Your mother and I can get out of your hair, you don’t have to throw out all your hard work because of this.”

David tipped his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And how do you think I will EVER believe that you aren’t sticking your nose in my fucking business still? I can’t. Bye, Dad. I’ll call you when I can bear to hear your voice again.”

Instead of ending the call, David threw the phone at the brick wall of the loft space, shattering the screen.

David threw himself down in the chair behind his desk and reached behind him to the small bar cart, pouring himself a shot of whiskey and throwing it down before adding two more behind it. Sighing, he stood up and walked to the door of the office and opened it, yelling down the industrial stairs to the main floor. “Samantha! Can I get a coffee? She peered up at him from where she’d been supervising the workers.

“Sure thing, David.”

“And, uh, a new phone?” he said somewhat sheepishly.

Samantha, his assistant, was used to David’s tantrums and didn’t even blink. “Yup.”

~~o~~

David went back into his office and threw himself back into his chair. What the fuck was he going to do? 

Growing up a Rose had been a charmed existence for he and his sister Alexis. Their parents had been mostly absent and disinterested through much of his and Alexis’ childhood, leaving them mostly in the care of the nanny and other household staff while Johnny Rose built his video store empire and Moira Rose filmed ever increasingly ridiculous soap opera plotlines. They were trotted out for store openings and publicity, but were generally left to their own devices. 

David had partied his way through high school, partied his way through college, partied his way through his twenties and finally reached a point where he felt he was ready to do something with the art history degree he’d somehow managed to obtain.

Thus, Rose Gallery had opened a little over a year ago, and he’d averaged a show every three months. This weekend would be his fifth show, and he’d been dating Sebastien while he was searching for just the right artist to showcase. 

He’d made the mistake of asking Sebastien if he wanted to show his photographs.

“David, David,” he’d said in that silky condescending voice of his. “I love that you want to show my work, I really do. But I just can’t compromise my principles like that.”

David looked over at him from where they lay in David’s bed, recently showered after a very vigorous round of sex. “What, because we’re dating?”

Sebastien laughed at this. “David, this...connection between you and me is not dating. It’s a whole vibe, a thing, a mutually beneficial soul connection. Nothing as gauche as dating.”

“Well, I thought we were dating,” muttered David. He turned to Sebastien again. “So if not because of our “mutually beneficial soul connection”, why won’t you show with me?”

Sebastian, clearly having hit the end of his tolerance for post-coital cuddling, climbed out of the bed and began picking up his clothing. “I mean, David, I get the appeal of the guaranteed sales that come from a showing at Rose Gallery, and I don’t fault anyone for taking the opportunity.”

David squinted at him from the bed, trying to figure out what he was talking about.

Sebastien paused to pull his ugly sweater over his head and step into his pants. He continued as he buttoned them. “But I’m an artist. I can’t compromise myself like that.”

David sat up. “The fuck do you mean, compromise? How is showing at my gallery compromising anything?”

Sebastien froze, then turned to face David. “You don’t know.” he said, a stunned expression on his face. “All this time, and you don’t know?”

“Know what?” David launched himself out of bed, grabbing his underwear and hastily stepping into them. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to have this conversation naked.

“That showing at Rose Gallery meant guaranteed sales. That word on the street was that your dad would reimburse any purchases made at one of your shows.”

David stared at him, mouth agape. “What?” he whispered.

“Seriously, David, I had no idea you didn’t know. I thought this was just a little passion project of yours.” He waved it away as if Rose Gallery was nothing to David, just something for the poor little rich kid to kill time on. “I feel so bad being the one to break this news to you.” He turned toward the bedroom door to leave, then stopped and turned back to David. “While we’re talking, I’ve been meaning to suggest that maybe I see other people, you know, in addition to you.”

David’s mind was spinning a hundred miles an hour. “Yeah, sure, whatever,” he muttered. 

“Great, great. It’s just so much better for my art if I’m not tied down, you know? See you Saturday?”

“Yup,” said David, who had started getting dressed. Sebastien saw himself out.

He got very drunk that night, and had almost convinced himself that Sebastien was lying. Sebastien was an asshole, but David liked assholes, so it was entirely possible. He spent the next two days trying to get a hold of his dad, and when that had failed, he called his dad’s assistant and made a fucking appointment for a phone meeting like he was some stranger. 

His dad had called him 15 minutes later when Lucy told him who had called her.

And confirmed everything Sebastien had told him.

David reached to pour himself another shot of whisky, then thought better of it. Samantha would be back with his coffee soon, and a new phone, and then he could just go home and get drunk there, instead. 

Eventually there was a knock on the door, and Samantha put down the phone (already activated and ready to go) and the coffee. “Rough day, boss?” she said.

“Did you know?” he spat.

“Know what?” She looked genuinely concerned.

“That my dad was bankrolling all the purchases at my shows?”

The look on her face convinced David that no, she’d had no idea long before the gasp and “What? No! That’s awful!”.

“Yeah. So, I don’t know if we’re doing any more shows after this one. Let’s just get through the next couple weekends and we’ll figure something out. I won’t leave you hanging.”

Samantha nodded. “They’re, uh, they’re done setting up the walls downstairs, they need you to come sign off on it. They wouldn’t let me do it, even though I said you were indisposed.”

“I’ll do it on my way out, thanks,” he said. Samantha turned, knowing a dismissal when she heard one.

David grabbed his leather jacket and slid it on, throwing the new phone into his satchel and heading downstairs to check the layout for the show. It was fine, and he signed off. He told Samantha to lock up when they were gone, and then he called his driver and told him he was ready to go home. Five minutes later, he pulled up. David had never been so glad to be on his way back to his apartment in his life.


	2. City Nights, City Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was originally two chapters but I realized that a chunk of the conversation between David and Stevie would work better done in front of Patrick, so I decided to make one longer chapter instead of one really short one and one regular one.

He got home and slipped into a white tee-shirt and a pair of black joggers. Grabbing a bottle from his bar, he reached for one of the shot glasses. “Fuck it,” he muttered, and took the bottle to the couch. It faced the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked NYC, and he sipped from the bottle as he watched the sky darken and the city lights come on. He was well into the bottle when he heard his apartment door open. 

“Fuck off, Stevie.” he called, not bothering to turn around.

As expected, she ignored this. He heard her in the kitchen and shook his head, going back to his bottle and his feelings. A few moments later a hand reached over him from behind the couch, plucking the bottle out of his hand and replacing it with a coffee. 

“Hey!” he said, trying to reach behind him with the hand that hadnt just had a to go cup shoved into it. Stevie bounced back a step, out of his reach. 

“Pity party’s over before you kill yourself,” she said, setting the bottle on a side table and walking around the couch to plop down at the other end.

“I take it Samantha called you?” 

“Whatever you’re paying her, it isn’t enough,” Stevie said. “Want to talk about it?”

“Nope,” he said, still refusing to make eye contact. “What I told Samantha is pretty much all you need to know.”

Stevie hummed. “Your parents care about you.”

“Do they?” he snapped, finally turning to look at her. “Do they? Or do they just see Alexis and I as more obligations, things to take care of and throw money at so they aren’t problems?”

He pauses. “Well, me. They don’t seem to give a fuck at all about Alexis, I practically raised her. Am still raising her.” 

Stevie shrugged. “Look, I’m not saying it wasn’t shitty. I’m saying they didn’t do it to hurt you.”

“Well, they did,” he said, finally taking a drink of the coffee. “This is delicious.”

“After twenty years I should know you well enough to order your coffee.”

“Suppose.”

“How much did you drink?”

“Three shots at the office and...that bottle was ¾ full when I got home.”

Stevie glances over at it. “Okay, so water, too.” She put her hands on her thighs and stood up. There’s bottles of water in the bar, so she grabs two out of the fridge and comes back to the couch, setting one down on the couch next to David. “Finish the coffee, then drink that. Then we’ll work on this one.”

“I’m not THAT drunk, Stevie.”

“Your liquor tolerance aside, you have a show to get ready for this weekend and you do not need to be hungover tomorrow. And yeah, you kinda are that drunk.”

David flops his head back against the couch. “You know, Adelina was my nanny, not you.”

“Drink your coffee, David,” she repeats, pulling out her phone and ignoring him. 

Sighing, David drinks the coffee, then both bottles of water while he stares out the window. Somehow the comforting lights of New York just look ominous and threatening tonight. 

Stevie reaches over and grabs the empty bottles and the coffee cup, then sees the top to the whiskey bottle and grabs that. She puts everything away, then stands in front of David, holding out a hand.

“What?”

“You are going to go take a shower, put all your bullshit on your face, and go to bed.”

David closes his eyes and sighs. “Stay with me?”

“I figured you’d ask, I packed a bag. See you in there.”

David takes her hand and stands up, and then they split up, him off to his bedroom suite, Stevie to grab her bag and use the bathroom in the guest room. 

By the time David’s done with his nine step skincare routine, Stevie has made herself comfortable in his bed. She’s reading something on her phone when he comes in. David slides between the sheets and turns to her. “Thanks,” he whispers.

Stevie put her phone down and rolled over to face him. “Well, I mean, your bed is nicer than mine, so really, this is about me.”

“Of course,” said David, tucking a smile into the corner of his mouth. They lay there for a moment, then Stevie moved closer, wrapping her arms around David. Despite the six inches he had on her, David always needed to be the little spoon, needed to be cocooned and made to feel safe, and Stevie had been doing it most of her life. 

David rolled over, settling in. “Goodnight, Stevie.”

“Goodnight, David.”

Stevie was gone by the time David woke up, which was unsurprising, as it was 10:30 am and, as Stevie liked to remind him, “Some of us have day jobs.” She had left another bottle of water and some Excedrin on his nightstand, however, and he took those before getting out of bed.

A few clicks on his phone and breakfast was ordered. He went into his closet and decided on clothes, then went into the bathroom for morning skin care and to tame his curls. He was finishing up when his phone rang. It was the doorman, letting him know his food was here. “Send them up,” he said, and made his way toward the kitchen and the door. 

He ate in silence, going through work emails on his phone. He ignored the couple from potential artists he’d been trying to woo for a show, since that wasn’t happening now. He’d have to at some point tell them the gallery was closing, but he didn’t have the energy to do it right now. He somehow had to get through this three weekend show without falling apart, without being rude to every attendee, knowing that any or all of them were being bribed by his father. 

Eventually it was noon, and his driver texted that he was downstairs. David grabbed his bag, took one last look in the mirror by the door, and steeled himself to somehow get through a day at the gallery without killing anyone.

Samantha was already there, overseeing more set up. The art would be delivered tomorrow, and the artist, Rebecca Kostin, would come to direct the installation. 

David walked over to her, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered. She smiled. “Just doing my job, boss.”

“It’s not your job,” he corrected. “But I’m thankful.”

He went up the stairs to his office, turning on the landing and looking down at her. She was moving around, checking on things, measuring things to make sure the layout was right. David would be lost without her. Before turning to go into his office, he pulled up the contact for his personal shopper at Tiffany.

“Mr. Rose, hello!” said Lorna. “How can I assist you today?”

David dropped his bag next to his desk and shrugged out of his coat while balancing the phone on his shoulder. “I need something sent over for my assistant, for going above and beyond.”

He paused, then added. “Again.”

“Oh, we can certainly put something together. Did you have something specific in mind?”

“No,” said David, sitting down. “You have her style profile.”

“Great, great. Today?”

“Yes, please. Can you send it over by courier? Discreetly? I’d like to give it to her myself.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Rose. Expect something around 3:00pm, if that works?”

“That’s perfect, yes, thank you.” David ended the call and set his phone down. Samantha had a fairly good collection of little blue boxes. Working for him had never been easy. But now he was going to have to tell her that she’d be unemployed in a month.

He would take care of her, obviously. After 15 months of putting up with him, taking care of him in his professional and private issues, he couldn’t just toss her to the wolves. But Sam loved her job, loved working at the gallery, and it was going to kill her to move on. 

And if Seb was right, and “everyone” knew about his dad, it knocked down the assumed prestige she’d have when job hunting. Being the assistant curator at Rose Gallery was apparently not the high status position David had assumed it was.

He sighed again.

He threw himself into work after that, confirming with caterers and other vendors for the upcoming shows, confirming with Rebecca that everything was on schedule for tomorrow. He opened up several emails from potential artists to reply that Rose Gallery was doing it’s last show, but hovered over send before deleting the draft. He had an idea.

Samantha brought lunch up at 2:30, and then was back again at 3 with a package. “This just arrived by courier, David.”

He took it from her, thanked her and she went back downstairs. 

Sighing, he left a message for his father, not really believing it would get returned, and turned to the package. He opened it, then slipped out the blue box. Opening that, he looked at the thin platinum chain bracelet with five beautiful sapphires dotting its length. It was exactly something she’d love, but that’s why Lorna got the commission she did. There was no paperwork, no receipt. David had no idea how much it had cost, and didn’t care. Money had never been an issue. 

Closing the box back up, he placed it into a desk drawer. When 5:00pm came, he went to the door, watching Samantha as all of the workers made their way out of the gallery. “Can you come up when you’re done?” he called to her.

“Absolutely,” she said. 

David went back to his desk and twirled the rings on his fingers, wondering if he was making the right decision. 

All too soon, Samantha knocked once and let herself into the room. She sat down on one of the chairs across from David. “What can I do for you?”

“Wondering if I can do something for you; actually.” said David, looking anywhere but at her. “First, thank you again for calling Stevie last night. I would have probably been okay, I’d only gotten into the alcohol, but it’s good to have someone who has my back when I’m having a bad night.”

“Anytime. I care about you, David.” She pushed her hair back over her shoulders, obviously uncomfortable with the attention.

David reached into his desk and pulled out the box, pushing it across the desk at her. “No, really, thank you. There aren’t many people in my life that look out for me.”

She smiled and took the box, peeking into it. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”

David smiled. “I have one more thing for you, I think.”

She looked up at him.

“Have you ever thought about owning a gallery?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein David secures the services of an attorney with honey brown eyes.

Samantha stared at him in shock.

“I can’t do this anymore. But you’ve done so much here - you’ve practically run the last couple shows, and you’re perfectly capable of networking with artists. You don’t need me.”

Samantha frowned. “I can’t afford to buy this space, David. I don’t have that kind of money, or collateral to put up for a loan this size. Excuse me for saying it, but your financial resources far, far outweigh mine.”

David pulled in his lips, thinking. “What if you ran it? What if it was yours, and you ran it, but you didn’t have to buy it. What if we could find some way for me to give it to you?”

More shock, this time. “David, that’s not a Tiffany bracelet here and there. That’s loft space in the city money. You can’t just ...give that to me.”

“I mean, I don’t know the legalities, but I can certainly do it. And I want to. This is your dream too, and just because I need to get away from it doesn’t mean your dream has to die.”

David looked up, willing the tears not to fall. It had been his dream, and then it had been dashed on the rocks and smashed to pieces in front of his face. By his own father.

They were quiet for a while. David wasn’t sure if she was thinking, or giving him space to claw back his tears, but he was grateful in any event. After a lifetime of sponging off of his parents, he really felt like he was doing something on his own here. Yes, they had paid for the building, but in the last six months or so he’d started using his own money for some things. He hadn’t gotten rid of the credit cards tied to his parents accounts, but he wasn’t using them for _everything_ anymore, and he was proud that he was starting to assert his independence.

And now this. He turned to the bar cart, reaching for the whisky, and stilled his hand. He turned back around to find Samantha watching him.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled.

“Not judging, David. You’ve been through a lot in the last few days.”

David raised his eyebrows and nodded. “That’s for sure.”

Samantha shifted in her seat, staring out the window behind David. “What if…” she trailed off, obviously still thinking. “What if we could find some way for me to take over, and I paid you out a percentage of the sales until we’d reached an amount that seemed reasonable, and then you transferred it to me. Sort of like a loan, but not?” 

David squinted, thinking. “I mean, I’m fine with that. I wouldn’t know how to begin setting it up or making sure you had everything you needed to make decisions around here, legally. I’ll have to get a hold of one of my dad’s lawyers. I’ll try to set up a meeting to talk to them, and then we can meet with them and try to see if we can come to an agreement?”

Samantha nodded. “That makes sense.” She paused. “And David?”

“Hmm?” he said, finally making eye contact.

“Don’t be a stranger? I’ve really enjoyed working with you, and I wish you didn’t feel you had to do this, but I understand.”

David managed a half smile, tucking it into the corner of his mouth. “I’ve enjoyed working with you, too. This is all I ever wanted, and it’s killing me to leave it, but it’s tained now. Ruined. I can’t...I can’t ever trust that it’s my hard work again. Maybe that’s me being stubborn and childish, but I don't know how to feel any other way about this.”

So much of David’s life had been spent not really caring if he’d earned what he had. Paying off five figure bar tabs for a group without thinking twice about what his signature on a piece of paper represented. Not considering the work his parents had done so that he could drop fifteen thousand dollars on booze and food. Not considering the sort of “friends” who let someone drop fifteen thousand dollars on booze and food, and what they thought about David for it. 

But slowly, slowly he’d started to care. So he sat down with his dad and outlined the idea of the gallery, and what he wanted to do, and how he thought he could do it. He’d found the building, found Samantha, and the last year was, as far as he could tell, the happiest he had ever been in his life. He’d met Sebastien a couple months ago through one of the artists he’d showcased, and…

Sebastien. Had he seriously told Sebastien he could see other people? He had. 

And in the back of his mind, he knew Sebastien had asked him when he was upset and vulnerable, but his brain skipped over that like he’d pull back from a hot stove burner, unwilling to let it burn him. David’s brain was very good at not letting things upset David.

Until it wasn’t, of course.

But for now, David couldn’t think about Sebastien. He was coming to the show on Saturday, they could talk then. 

“Why don’t you go ahead and head out, Sam. I need to get a hold of my dad and get the number to his lawyer’s office and try to set up a meeting to see how we can manage this, but we’re pretty much all set for the day. Rebecca will be here around 11 and the movers around noon, so don’t bother coming in until about 10:30. Enjoy your morning.”

Samantha nodded and stood up. “Sure thing, David.” She walked to the door, then paused and looked back at him, sitting at his desk, looking more lost than she’d ever seen him. “You deserved this to succeed, you know. You deserved to do this on your own, and get to enjoy your accomplishments. And even if they didn’t believe you could do it, I did. I truly believed you could do this, and I felt so blessed to get to help you do it.”

She slipped through the door before David could respond, closing it behind her.

David put his head down on his desk and cried.

oOo

Eventually, David pulled himself together enough to call his driver to get him home. He left a message for his dad and headed outside. He was in the car when his phone rang, and was surprised to see his Dad was actually returning his call. Apparently knowing your son was intensely pissed at you spurred you into actually paying attention to him. 

“Dad, hi, I need to talk to your business lawyers.”

“Oh, um, okay, son. Can I ask why?”

“No.”

“Sure, sure. Okay. Um, I’ll have Lucy text it over to you. And again, I just wanted to say how much your mother and I…”

“Great thanks, appreciate it” said David in a rush, jabbing at his phone to end the call.

Lucy texted him the number sometime around the time he got back to his apartment. It was too late to call the lawyers, so he changed into some loungewear and opened up his fridge. Two sad looking boiled eggs, some condiments, and some leftover pizza that was probably way, way past it’s prime.

He sighed and grabbed his phone, ordering some Chinese. He called down to the doorman to tell him to just let the delivery guy up when he got here. 

Stevie: Hey, do I need to come by tonight?

David: Do you mean do I need a babysitter, or do I want you to come by?

Stevie: Either?

David: I’m fine. I have some Chinese coming. I’m sober. 

Stevie: Okay.

David: I’m getting a hold of Dad’s lawyers to figure out how to transfer the gallery to Samantha.

Stevie: Wow.

David: Well, I can’t keep doing this.

Stevie: No, I get that. That’s nice of you.

David: I’m not nice. But Samantha is.

Stevie: True, you’re not.

David: Fuck off, Stevie.

Stevie: 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

David: My food is here. Best wishes.

Stevie: Warmest regards 🖕

David smiled, setting down his phone to go to the door. Stevie could always make things better. Had made things better since he was ten years old.

David ate his food, then ran a bubble bath in his oversized jetted tub. He grabbed a glass and a bottle of prosecco, and lowered himself into the water. He hissed at the heat, but soon adjusted. He poured, then toasted the air. “To the end of dreams” he whispered, downing the glass in one gulp. He poured a second, then set the bottle on the edge of the tub and leaned back, luxuriating in the heat.

He sipped the sparkling wine, letting his mind wander but never stopping anywhere for too long. He knew he was going to need to figure out what was next for him soon, but tonight was not the night. Tonight he would just work on accepting that this chapter was over. The future could wait.

oOo

David set an alarm for 8:30 the next morning, grumbling the whole time. When it went off, he was pretty sure this was what death felt like. He stumbled into the kitchen to make himself some coffee, then tapped at the phone number Lucy had sent.

“Snider and Smith,” said a cheery receptionist.

“Uh, hi, this is David Rose…” he began.

“Ah, Mr. Rose! We were told to expect your call. You needed a meeting with one of our attorneys?”

“Uh, yeah.” David twisted his rings, staring off into space. 

“Great. We penciled you in for this morning just in case, can you be at our office at 10:30?”

In the morning?? Ran through David’s head, but he sighed. “Yes. Text me the address at this number?”

“Sounds good. I’ll let Mr. Brewer know to expect you.”

“Thank you,” said David, ending the call. A moment later a text came in with an address. He forwarded the text to his driver and asked him to pick him up at 10.

Somehow, David was ready to go when he got the call his ride was there. He was silent the whole way over, which wasn’t unusual. Anytime David had to be anywhere before noon, Bryan, his driver, knew there wasn’t going to be any conversation. 

Once inside the building, David checked the directory and saw that Snider and Smith’s offices were on the 32nd floor. He made his way to the elevators.

The doors opened up directly into a large reception area; apparently this firm had the whole floor. A brunette receptionist sat at the desk, and stood and smiled when he walked in. 

“You must be Mr. Rose, you look just like your father,” she said, smiling as he walked toward her. 

David had been hearing this since he could speak, and had a collection of responses ready. He picked one at random. “Yes, the apple definitely didn’t fall far from the tree!” he laughed his most believable fake laugh.

“Would you like something to drink? We’ve got a full set up here. Espresso?”

“That would be great, thank you so much. Caramel macchiato? Two sweeteners and a bit of cocoa powder if you have it?”

She smiled. “I’ll see what we can do, and I’ll let Mr. Brewer know you’re here. Please, have a seat.” She indicated some comfortable looking chairs to the right of her desk, then disappeared through a door behind it.

David had barely had time to sit down before she was back again. “It seems Mr. Brewer is already ready for you, Mr. Rose. I’ll have to bring your macchiato to you there, if you could follow me?”

She led him to a different door than the one she’d used, and they made their way through a maze of hallways and offices, until she knocked on the door of one. 

“Come in,” said a voice. She opened the door and ushered David through it.

“Mr. Brewer, this is Mr. Rose. I’m making him a coffee, do you need anything?”

“Tea, if you wouldn’t mind, Diane.”

“Of course.” She closed the door behind David, who made his way over to chairs in front of the attorney’s desk.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Additional tags: David Rose/OC (sex off screen), stoned phone calls

He was...well, there was no better word for it, he was adorable. Honey brown eyes that momentarily reminded David of the whiskey he’d over indulged in a few nights ago. Light hair with a reddish tint, curls just starting to escape the close cropped haircut. He was clearly overdue for a trim. 

His suit was fine, but not what David expected from a Manhattan law firm. It was tailored, at least, but definitely off the rack. David felt a swoop in the pit of his stomach he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

What the hell, David, he told himself. This is like the platonic ideal of a buttoned up straight laced het guy. Stop it.

He held out his hand. “Call me David, please.”

“Of course, David. My name’s Patrick.” 

They shook hands, and David stared into those eyes again. Alarm bells were going off in his head. He tried to get himself under control, and realized he’d been holding onto Patrick’s hand for far longer than was acceptable. 

He let go and pulled his hand back, knowing he was blushing.

“Have a seat,” said Patrick. He turned to his laptop and clicked a few keys.

“So, I’ve pulled up what we have on you. It looks like a little over a year ago we helped you set up Rose Gallery as a business in your name, and our accountants have been handling your finances.”

“Yeah,” said David, grief in letting go of it hitting him like a freight train again. He took a minute to pull himself back together, staring up at the drop ceiling and ugly fluorescent lights.

“Sorry,” he said, thankfully being interrupted by ...Debbie? Dora? Bringing his coffee and Patrick’s tea into the office. He accepted it with a murmured thanks, and sipped it. 

“I actually worked on that file for a little bit,” said Patrick. “I was a CPA before I got my law degree, so I usually do more on the end of the accountancy side - people being audited, whatever. But since I finished law school I’ve been working a lot more on the incorporation side of things. What can I do for you today?”

Show me what those eyes look like gazing up when you’re on your knees. David shook his head. Now is not the time, libido. “So, the gallery is doing well, we’ve had a bunch of shows and it’s been mildly successful..” David started talking, explaining the gallery and what he’d been doing with it. He noticed several times Patrick glanced down at a cell phone on his desk. The third time, he grabbed it and shoved it into a desk drawer. David pretended not to notice. 

“So that’s where I am now, but I’ve decided…” he paused, having not considered how he was going to explain the issue. “I’ve decided to move on, and…”

There was a knock at the door, and a man poked his head in. “Patrick, Rachel’s on line four, she’s insisting it’s important and she couldn’t get a hold of you.”

“Well, I’m in a client meeting,” Patrick muttered. “Thanks, Steve.” Steve ducked back out and closed the door.

Patrick sighed. “I’m sorry, can you excuse me for a second?”

“Oh,” said David. “Should I step out?” he moved to stand up.

“No, I suspect this will only take a moment.” He smiled a dazzling smile at David, and David felt his cock twitch. 

Great. Now he was getting all hot and bothered by the world’s most boring attorney. Was there anything David didn’t want to fuck? Get your shit together, Rose. 

“Her idea of important and my idea of important are rarely...on the same page,” Patrick continued, staring down at the phone. 

David noticed his reluctance to pick up the call, but said nothing. Eventually, he did.

“Rachel, hi, I’m with one of the Roses, what’s going on? Right. Okay. Well, no? I don’t.... Well, I just don’t see why that matters right now? No. Rachel. Rachel. Okay. Yes. Later, I promise. Yes. Okay. Yup, bye.”

He hung up the phone and closed his eyes. David had been staring at him the whole time, drinking him in, trying to figure out what it was about this guy in a boring suit that was fascinating him, and he still couldn’t figure it out. However, it looked like he was saved.

“Girlfriend?” said David, noticing the absence of a ring.

“Fiancee.” replied Patrick, smiling. David pretended he didn’t notice that the smile didn’t come anywhere near Patrick’s eyes.

David nodded. They stared at each other for a moment, before David cleared his throat. Patrick glanced back at the computer screen, hitting a few keys that David was fairly sure didn’t actually do anything. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’m ready to uh, move on, and I was trying to find a way to legally pass the business and the building to my assistant without her having to buy it, or create weird financial issues.” He waved his arms vaguely. “She suggested she pay me a percentage of the show sales for some length of time, but we need some guidance in how to do it legally.”

Patrick nodded. “I’m sure there’s definitely a way to do that. Let me do some research and go through the financials and figure out what it’s worth and how we can best do this. Do you have a timeline in mind?”

“We’re busy for about a month with a show that opens on Friday night, so we’re not in a huge hurry.” 

Patrick nods, clicking around on the computer again. “Yeah, I’m going to have to do some research. But I’m pretty sure I can make that happen for you.”

David’s eyebrows go up without his permission at the thought of what he’d like this button-faced cutie to make happen for him. 

“I really appreciate that,” he said “I really appreciate anything you can do for me.”

David freezes. Patrick’s eyes lock on him, an unreadable expression floating across the lawyer’s face before he schools it back into a passive gaze. “Well, that’s a thing I just said.” David mutters, and shoves his macchiato into his face, taking a long drink to shut himself up. He pretends not to notice the face journey Patrick just went on. 

Patrick clears his throat. “Well, David, I won’t keep you, I know you’re a busy man. He reaches down and pulls a card out of a small box on his desk. “Here’s my card, call me if you have any questions or concerns, and I’ll get going on figuring out how we can do this.”

David steps to him and takes the card, their fingertips brushing as he does. Is he imagining it, or did Patrick’s body startle, as if he’d been shocked? He smiles up at David, and that smile definitely reached his eyes. David smiles back. “Great, thanks so much.”

David flicks his fingers across the end of the card, staring down into it. “I’ll just...put this in here.” He fishes his wallet out of his satchel and slides the card in. He looks up and meets Patrick’s eyes again, but immediately decides that was a bad idea, and concentrates very hard on putting his wallet back in his bag.

“Thanks for coming by, David.” Patrick pauses for a moment. “From what I saw of the financials, things are going really well at the gallery. Seems a shame to be ready to walk away.”

David freezes, feeling the tears pricking in his eyes again.

“It isn’t by choice,” he says quietly, then flees the office before he cries again.

oOo

Rebecca and the art movers were at the gallery when David arrived. She swooped around from installation to installation. David’s eyes followed her, admiring the way her skirt swished and flowed around her long legs. It isn’t like he hadn’t noticed she was beautiful during earlier meetings, but somehow David just felt on edge, his body reacting to things more than seemed warranted. He made his way over to her “Rebecca, hi! Is everything going okay?”

Rebecca turned and beamed at him. “It’s going perfectly, David. Thank you so much for this opportunity, I think this is going to be a great partnership.”

David’s gut clenched at that, knowing if Rebecca showed here again, it would be with Samantha, not him. His smile faltered for a moment, but he recovered quickly. He needed this to go well. He needed the sales, no matter how much his father’s involvement. Pushing down the urge to ask Rebecca how much she knew about that, he let out a light laugh. “I’m sure Rose Gallery would love to work with you the next time you’re ready for a show!”

She spent the next hour making sure all the art was delivered, and then she and David spent several hours in a meeting with the party planner that was doing the decorations and food for the events. David made a few more phone calls, confirming with the cellist who would be performing during the show, but eventually found himself sitting in his office alone at 5:00pm. Samantha stuck her head in to say she was headed home, and he told her to have a good night.

Still feeling keyed up, David called for his car and then dialed Stevie. “Hey, wanna go out tonight?”

“It’s Wednesday, David.”

“Okay, let me rephrase. Do you want to have dinner with me before *I* go out tonight?”

Stevie laughed. “That is far, far more doable. Besides, wouldn’t want me cramping your style, the only reason you’d want to go out on a Wednesday is because you’re looking to pull.”

David threw his head back and laughed. Stevie knew him so well. He made his way downstairs and into the car. “I mean, you do make an excellent wingman…”

“Nope. I am not going out to the bar with you on a Wednesday, I know how those nights turn out.”

“Fine. I’ll get us somewhere for dinner at 8, I’ll pick you up at 7:30.”

Once he was back in his apartment, alone, David took an opportunity to try to take stock of what was going on with him. He was incredibly keyed up, but not in his usual anxiety way. There was an undercurrent of ...desire there. Not full blow horniness, but just this feeling of desire for more. He thought about his afternoon with Rebecca, and now that there was some distance, he definitely didn’t think she was suddenly hotter than he’d been over the last few months as they planned this show. 

He thought further back to Patrick. Patrick. He said his name aloud “Pa-trick.” Those honey brown eyes and the firmness of his handshake. Yes. That’s where it had come from, but that didn’t help David understand it any better. Patrick was...nice. Patrick was a midtown low-level attorney in an off-the-rack suit. 

But… David thought. What do those curls look like when he lets it grow out? Long enough to get fingers into? Does he like having it pulled? Does his…

Fiance. His female fiance. David shook his head. Yes, fine, the guy was cute, and he’s far from the first straight guy David found unbearably attractive. But it didn’t mean anything, couldn’t go anywhere. David’s days of being straight guys’ experiment were over, as well as his days of being the way closeted guys stayed in unhappy marriages. 

He shook his head and made a couple phone calls, getting a table for two at one of his favorite Thai restaurants. “We’ll put you at a good table, Mr. Rose,” the owner had promised. 

He dressed in something that would go from dinner to clubbing, leather pants to go with his leather jacket that felt like battle armor these days, and a tight white t-shirt under. At 7, Bryan, his driver, texted that he was downstairs, and David headed down and out to the car.

David smirked when Stevie slid into the car, Bryan closing the door behind her. “You are not dressed for Thai food with your best friend.”

She looked down at her low cut top and jeans two sizes smaller than she normally wore. “What, this old thing?”

“You’re coming out with me tonight, aren’t you?”

“N.no! Well. I mean, I just wanted to be prepared in case you really needed some moral support.”

David tilted his head at her. “Okay, Stevie.”

Dinner was dinner with Stevie. They talked, they insulted each other, David told her about his meeting with the attorney that morning.

“Why the hearteyes?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

Stevie shook her head. “David, I’ve known you since you were ten years old, you’ve got heart eyes for this Peter..”

“Patrick.”

“...Patrick. Every time you mentioned him tonight you’ve had to suppress a smile.”

“Fine, whatever,” said David, handing his card to the waiter who had come by the table with the bill. “He’s adorable. And straight. And engaged. To a Rachel.”

Stevie tilted her head back and laughed, then stood to put her jacket on. “David, I admit that the whole “engaged” thing is a bummer, but unless you two had a conversation about preferences, might I point out how much it upsets you when someone assumes you only sleep with men based on your appearance?”

“Okay, fine, you’re right, I don’t know he’s straight but it seems pretty fucking likely. Now, there’s Bryan and the car, are we taking you home or are you coming out with me so we can get fucked or at least fucked up?”

“You say the most romantic things,” said Stevie, taking his arm and starting toward the car. “How can a girl resist an offer like that?”

They headed to their usual spot; a bar that wasn’t a gay bar, but was very gay friendly. It gave David a whole range of genders to choose from, and Stevie a chance to find someone. David wondered again what it was like to only be attracted to only one gender. People were beautiful. Sex was fun. The specifics of the mechanics of that sex had never mattered much to him.

They went up to the bar, David handing over his card as they ordered a couple of shots to get started. “I have to work tomorrow,” said Stevie, throwing back the shot.

David ordered four more, and they split them. “Fine, so get drunk with me now so you can sober up.”

Stevie threw back the shots. “Okay. That’s gonna hit aaaaaalll at once, so let’s take a lap and see what there is to see.”

It was a Wednesday, so the place was loud, but a lot less crowded than it would be come Friday. Stevie drew a few glances, and David stepped away, letting anyone looking know that they weren’t together. He made eye contact with a chiseled blond guy. Definitely a former jock who had hit his late 30’s gracefully. David kept walking, and found a two top to sit down at, flicking through his phone disinterestedly. A figure sat down across from him. Bingo.

David looked up to see the tall blond sitting across from him. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Nathan.”

“David,” said David. They exchanged pleasantries for a little while, and eventually David said “Want to get out of here?”

“Yup,” said Nathan. 

“Excellent, just let me let my friend know I’ll send the car back for her.” He picked up his phone and texted Stevie. She had indeed found someone she was hanging out with, and said she’d definitely be there long enough for Bryan to get David home and come back for her. He fired off a text to Bryan, telling him to take him home and come back and wait for Stevie, and then looked up at Nathan.

“Great, let’s go,” said David, standing up and sliding his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket. They made their way outside and into the car. The moment Bryan pulled away from the curb, David was leaning over, licking a trail up Nathan’s neck and chewing on an earlobe briefly before whispering “Who’s getting fucked tonight?”

Nathan groaned and turned, capturing David’s lips in a punishing kiss, his tongue exploring every corner of David’s mouth. He broke the kiss long enough to say “Oh, I’m going to fuck you soooo goood,”

oOo

The sex was good. David felt wrung out and boneless as he stepped out of the shower. Nathan had showered, and then grabbed an uber home, which was just how David liked it. Fuck him and get out. He went out into the living room and sat down in front of his windows again. It was still so early - they’d hardly been at the bar for a half hour, and while the sex was good, it hadn’t lasted all that long. It was still just before midnight. 

David reached into his side table for a plastic container and opened it. The alcohol had long worn off, and he’d rushed through this night so fast. An edible would be nice, and then as it wore off he could climb into bed, all warm and content. He made a careful selection, and then chewed as he laid down sideways on his couch, looking at both his own and the gallery’s Instagram accounts to see what was what.

Soon, he realized his selection had not been nearly careful enough, as the gummy hit. He was going to have to start labeling shit if he was going to be this sloppy. Well, that was fine, really. He’d wanted to get either fucked or fucked up, and if he was a bit more high than he’d expected to be, well, bonus.

Without permission, his mind turned to Patrick. It was still early, he should call him. For..business. Yeah. Had he figured out the right paperwork for David to give Samantha the gallery? He could talk to Patrick about the gallery. “Pa-trick. Paaaaa-TRICK Patrick” David repeated the name, loving how it felt on his tongue. “I wonder how Patrick would feel on my tongue?” he asked the city lights in front of him. “I bet he’s got a great cock.”

This should probably have clued him in that he was too high to make this phone call, if the “you don’t make business phone calls at midnight” hadn’t, but nope, he was off to find his wallet and the card, and dialing before he’d given it a second thought. The call went to voicemail.

“Hi, David, it’s Patrick!” he said brightly, then knotted his eyebrows. That wasn’t right. “I was calling to see if you had an update on the business…” No, that definitely wasn’t right. He hung up the phone..

No, he could do this. He redialed the call. “Hi, Patrick, It’s David! I think I called you David, and that’s...that’s not your name!” He laughed. “Anyway, I was calling to get an update on the business...thing. The gallery.”

His phone buzzed with a text from Stevie letting him know she’d gotten home safely. “Sorry, just got a text..” he looked at the phone. Fuck, he’d hung up the call to look at the text.

He dialed again. “The text cut us off! That’s sad. But now you’re back again. Kinda. Because this is a voicemail. Anyway, was just wondering about the gallery. This is David. Rose. David Rose.”

He ended the call and dropped the phone next to him on the couch. He turned to face the window, and stared out into the city, wondering where Patrick was and what he was doing, and why he hadn’t answered his phone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This probably should have been two chapters, but here we are. Hope everything had a good weekend!

Thursday morning came with more meetings and prep for Rebecca’s show, and it kept David very busy. He hadn’t even really thought about Patrick or the phone messages all day, right up until he was in his office around 4pm and he got a phone call. He had put Patrick into his contacts last night, and it was Patrick calling.

“Hello?”

“Hi, David, I got your messages.”

“And you only listened to the first one and deleted the others?”

“Nope, I listened to them all!” he said brightly, almost but not quite containing the laughter in his tone.

David pondered the reaction from this straight-laced attorney if he told him he’d sobered up too fast after fucking a random he brought home and so got high after he left.

Yeah, gonna keep that one in his pocket for now.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

“Anyway, I put together a draft of a contract between you and Samantha - it’s basically an agreement that she’ll have all control over the business until she pays off whatever you decide to sell to her for. I’m still going through the financials with one of our staff accountants to come up with a general ballpark figure for what it’s worth. I’ll email it over and you and Rebecca can take a look at it and discuss it.”

David sighed. “Great, thanks,” he said flatly.

“You don’t sound thankful.” Patrick actually sounded concerned, which was ridiculous because why would he care, he was just doing his job.

“Like I said, I don’t really want to do this.”

“Oh,” said Patrick quietly.

“Hey,” said David, desperate to change the subject. “Tomorrow night we’re doing a small exclusive opening for Rebecca’s show, you should come by. I can put you on the list.” he laughed. “I have some pull with the owner, at least for now.”

Patrick was quiet for a moment. David spiraled. Why on earth was he inviting him to the show opening? Why on earth would he want to come? And why didn’t he just tell him to come by Saturday?

That one, David knew. Sebastien would be there.

“...or not,” he continued quickly. “I’m sure you and,” Rachel, his brain filled in. “...your fiance have other plans. You could both come!” he said brightly, and then pinched himself on the arm for being an idiot.

“Oh, no, it’s not that I have other plans, I was just thinking about how great the timing was. Rachel is leaving tomorrow morning to visit her parents back in Canada for a...a while and I was looking at a bachelor weekend home alone. I’d love to come see the show.”

David pinched himself again, this time to tamp down the electric thrill that coursed through him upon thinking about Patrick home alone for the weekend.

“Great,” he finally said. “You have the address to the gallery. We open at 9, but feel free to drop by a little early.”

Why had he done that? 

“Sounds good, I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I gotta run, though, I have a couple more phone calls to make before I can get out of here.”

“Great, okay, bye!” David ended the call and stared at the phone. There were too many reasons that was a bad idea to even fit in his head at once. Engaged. Straight. His attorney. The night was going to be stressful and hectic enough.

Well, he’d done it. He certainly wasn’t going to call him back and tell him he wasn’t welcome. He’d be busy anyway, Patrick could get some free drinks and look at the art and he’d say hi to him and then he’d leave because David would be too busy to spend time with him anyway. It would be fine.

The butterflies in his stomach had other opinions, but he steadfastly ignored those. Or tried to, at least.

He headed downstairs. “Samantha, add Patrick Brewer to the guestlist for tomorrow night,” he called to her where she was running around, face in a tablet as she supervised the setup. 

“Is that the attorney?”

“Yeah, and he sent me some ideas but let’s get through this weekend first before we even look at it.”

“Please,” she said, “I can’t handle one more thing in my brain right now.”

“What can I do?” 

And with that, the next three hours went in a blur. They weren’t quite done, so David ordered in dinner for the two of them, and by the time it arrived, they were in a good place for the final push tomorrow. The party planner would be there all day setting up, and Samantha and David had much less to do. They ate in companionable silence.

Once they were done and David had retrieved his coat from and bag upstairs, he went to find Samantha who had retreated to her own tiny office, presumably for the same reason. “Need a lift home?”

Samantha smiled at him, “That would be great, I hate leaving here in the dark, whether I’m taking uber or the subway.”

David wrinkled his nose at the thought of taking the subway, and Samantha laughed. 

“Bryan’s about to be here, let’s head out.” He instructed Bryan to take Sam home first, and then before he knew it, he was walking into his apartment. It had been a long, long day. Headed into the bathroom to do his nightly skincare, he decided what he really wanted was his bed and a book, no matter how early it was. 

oOo

Friday actually went way smoother than David could have imagined. David was doing laps of the show floor, making sure everything was perfect. Food, drinks, the musician they’d hired for the night was there and set up. Rebecca was in Samantha’s office, where Samantha had told her to go when she started getting nervous. She’d brought her something to drink from David’s stash upstairs, and she said she’d be out soon.

David was standing with his back to the door around 8 when he heard a voice. “Hey, your bouncer didn’t want to let me in early but I sweet talked him into it.”

David closed his eyes, and realized his hands were shaking. Why were his hands shaking? He turned. “Aw, I didn’t know there’d be sweet talk, now I want some.”

Patrick blushed to the tips of his ears, which made the anxiety swirling in David’s stomach for saying something so rash absolutely worth it. He walked over to Patrick. “Uh, yeah. Hi. I’m glad you’re here, thoiugh. Do you want a sneak peak?”

Patrick said he did, and so they were off. “Rebecca will be around later, she can give you far more information on the pieces than I can,” David said, “But I thought it would be nice if you could check out the art.”

“Definitely here to ...check out the art,” said Patrick. David suppressed a smile. 

They made their way through the exhibit rooms, and headed back into the main space. Stevie was standing with Samantha. 

“Okay, I really need to go talk to him,” David grumbled. “They’re supposed to call me if someone says they’re allowed to be here early, not just let anyone in.”

“Oh, so now I’m just anyone, she said, her voice flat. She turned and looked at Patrick. “Hi, I’m Stevie,” 

Patrick stuck out his hand, “Nice to meet you, I’m Patrick.”

Stevie shook his hand with a shit-eating grin on her face and David wanted to sink into the floor. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that Stevie would be here, that Stevie knew about Patrick.

“Patrick...oh, David’s lawyer, he mentioned having a meeting with you.”

“Did he now?,” said Patrick, his eyes sliding over to David. 

David coughed. “Stevie’s been my best friend since we were kids. Her grandmother was me and my sister’s nanny, and when she was ten, she came to live with Adelina, which means she came to live with us.”

ʻOh my God,” said Steve laughing. We put my poor grandmother through so much. Do you remember your 12th birthday?”

David tried to look stern, but his face was telling another story. “Do you mean the pool party where you hogged all of Ben Savage’s attention?”

“I didn’t even want his attention!” she turned to Patrick. “So, I didn’t give two shits about Ben Savage but he hung all over me all day. David decided the best course of action after this was to ignore me for two weeks.”

“It worked, though. You couldn’t stand it. So, the first couple of days she was like whatever. Then she started trying to force me to say something to her. She rearranged my closet. The next day she kept messing up my hair.”

“It wasn’t working, so I had to get mean,” continued Stevie. “I mixed up all his bath products so every bottle was a mix of like five things. When that didn’t work, I got drastic.”

“You stole my journal!” 

“I did. He was convinced I was going to, I don’t know, black mail him or something. I didn’t even read it, but he trapped me in the kitchen one afternoon and I was screaming bloody murder.”

David picked up the story, Patrick’s head going back and forth beteeen them like he was watching a tennis game. “She’s older but I’ve almost always been taller. She thought I was actually going to hurt her.”

“So Grandma comes in, sees us on either side of the kitchen island, I’m screaming in terror and David is screaming at me that I’d better give him back his journal and Alexis is in the doorway crying.”

“I have never seen Adelina that angry. We got away with so much as kids but she was absolutely done that day. She sent us upstairs and told us we couldn’t come back down until we’d settled our differences because the entire house had been in an uproar for two weeks and Mom and Dad were due back and we could not act like that in front of them.”

“So we went upstairs and David followed me into my room. I gave him back his journal and we bonded over how unfair and mean Grandma was being.”

“And that was my first taste of how many straight boys would break my heart without even knowing they did it.”

David risked a glance at Patrick, who had suddenly found something fascinating in the bottom of his wine glass. Stevie watched them both. 

After a beat, Patrick smiled, “So it was like having another sister?”

Stevie let out a loud, barking cough. Patrick looked from her to David in confusion.

“We lost our virginity to each other when I was 14 and she was 15, just to see what it was like. So no, not like siblings, but we’ve never dated or anything.”

“No, once David got a taste of sex I wasn’t going to be able to keep up with him,” said Stevie, finally pulling herself together.

“You created a monster!” laughed Patrick.

Stevie turned to David. “I like him,”

She turned back to Patrick, “I like you.”

“If you two are QUITE done, I’ve got a show to do.” he called over to Samantha, who had gone to get Rebecca while he was talking to Stevie and Patrick. “I’m going upstairs to change,”

“Got it, boss.”

David went upstairs and changed into all black, new pieces from this season that would look good but not take away from the art. He would be mingling tonight, hopefully making some sales.

His stomach soured again, remembering. “Get it together, Rose,” he said to himself. One last check of his hair, and he was gliding down the stairs, David gone, David Rose, gallerist in his place. He pretended not to notice Patrick staring up at him. Whatever Patrick’s issue was, it wasn’t about to be his issue, and certainly not tonight.

The night went smoothly, as he’d hoped. He was standing in a corner out of the way around 11 when a glass of champagne was pressed into his hand. He looked up to see Patrick with his own glass.

“Oh, you’re still here?” he said, the words slipping out before his brain could engage.

“Uh, am I not supposed to be?” Patrick shifted uncomfortably and looked toward the door.

“No, no, that came out way harsher than I meant it, I was just surprised.”

“Spent some time with Stevie, and I talked to Samantha briefly about the gallery, told her we’d be happy to keep representing her once the shift was made. Also, I think I’m going to buy the blue and silver sculpture.”

David found himself blinking back tears. Not because it was Patrick, or because he found the piece all that exciting, but because he knew this was a real sale. There was no way Johnny even knew Patrick was here.

“Well, let me take you over to talk to Rebecca about it, and if you want it, we can certainly make that happen.”

He took Patrick by the elbow and they made their way across the room. David saw Stevie raising her eyebrows at them and detoured Patrick so they wouldn’t walk past her. 

He handed Patrick over to Rebecca, who was more than happy to go tell him about the sculpture and what she was trying to do.

The show ran until midnight, and by the end there was another person interested in one of Rebecca’s pieces. Patrick told David he’d send over a check for the deposit tomorrow as he was saying goodbye. It was one of the smaller pieces, and not extravagantly expensive, but certainly more expensive than any piece he’d sold to a friend before. David had to practically draw blood digging his nails into his palms, but he did not suggest Patrick stick around and come back to his place for a drink. 

David, Samantha and Stevie all piled into the car, and Bryan took Samantha home. As soon as the door closed, Stevie pounced.

“Oh my god David he’s adorable and you should have seen how much his eyes followed you around tonight. I was watching. His heart eyes might be bigger than yours.”

David blew out a long breath and turned to Stevie, “Stevie, my days of helping straight, married men “experiment” are long over.”

“Is that what this is?” said Stevie, her face betraying her words. Stevie definitely didn’t think that’s what this was.

“He’s engaged, Stevie. None of this matters. I may have been That Person in the past, but I’m not now.”

“Speaking of, how’s Sebastien?”

Stab the knife a little further, Stevie. The man he thought he wanted, he couldn’t have, and the man he had ...well, he didn’t want him anymore, his evening with Nathan had cemented that. He’d really thought he and Sebastien had something, that Sebastien might even someday love him, but offhandedly asking for an open relationship did not instill a lot of confidence in David. David had done open relationships, had no problem with open relationships. But they’d always either been that way from the start, or negotiated with a lot of talking. This with Sebastien was Sebastien opening the door to leave.

Like everyone always left. Like his parents, in California while her mother filmed the Sunset Beach reunion. Like Alexis, who probably wasn’t even on this continent at the moment. Like every other man, woman and non-binary person he’d ever dated. Every person he’d ever tried to have more than a sexual relationship with had figured out that David was Too Much, and left. Some, sooner than others.

He sighed. “That’s done. He’s supposed to come to the show tomorrow night but I think I’m going to tell him not to, and take him off the guestlist. I didn't even feel bad Wednesday, didn’t worry it would make Sebastien upset, didn’t anything. So, yeah.”

Stevie nodded. “He wasn’t good for you anyway,” she said, and David absolutely knew that to be true, because he’d never dated anyone that was good for him. To the last, they were using him - for money, for drugs, for sex, for clout. David knew that, knew it from the start, but had always held out hope that this one would be the one to decide to stay. 

No one ever stayed.

He was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t feel the car pull up to Stevie’s building. “Hey, David, good night,” she said, poking at him.

He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks for coming tonight,”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I promise I have not forgotten you all! I've been trying to update 3x a week but work got crazy and then this weekend I helped run a huge virtual event! We should be back on our regularly scheduled program.
> 
> We usually have a house full of people right now. I don't like football, but I do like parties and excuse to get together in the dark of February. There's a twitter DM thread going with my best local girlfriends and all day today it's just been about all the things we're not doing today that we should be. I've gotten my vaccine, being super-high risk, and I can't wait until all the rest of you do, too. I miss people.
> 
> So, to bring a little joy to my evening, have another chapter, and I'm going to get some writing done before the work week starts up. I'm still nowhere near caught up posting what's already written, but we don't want to get there, either!

Saturday morning he texted Sebastien to lose his number, and took him off the list for that night. Sebastien didn’t reply, which was fine by him. 

The rest of the weekend went by in a blur. Rebecca’s pieces were very well received, and at Sunday afternoon’s showing she did several interviews with art magazines. Hopefully whatever didn’t sell in the next few weeks would get some attention outside of New York.

He and Samantha had taken Monday through Wednesday off. They just needed to be back in time to make sure everything was ready for the weekend. This was the part David loved. The time during a show when all the chaos and activity slowed down to throwing a party three days a week. That, he could do in his sleep.

He woke up Monday...well, afternoon - picking up his phone he noticed it was 12:30. Well, he’d probably needed it. He opened his phone to check his messages, and saw he had a text from Patrick.

**Patrick** : Thanks again for inviting me this weekend I don’t usually get to hobnob with NYC’s elite

**Patrick** : I figured you were going to be busy this weekend so I waited until today to text

**Patrick** : Although in retrospect I suspect this is way too early to expect a response from you, so I’ll stop blowing up your phone when you’re probably sleeping

David grinned at his phone like a 16 year old girl whose crush had texted her. This was fucking ridiculous. 

He texted back immediately.

**David** : Yeah, I just woke up, and this is late even for me But we always take the beginning of the week off during shows, so sleep while I can, I guess

**Patrick** : Yeah, Stevie said you and Sam wouldn’t be working today

David stared at his phone. When had that happened? Friday night?

**David** : Oh?

**Patrick** : Yeah, she gave me her number Friday night and I texted her this morning after I texted you

Patrick and Stevie had been discussing him. That was dangerous.

**David** : Anything she said about me is a lie

**Patrick** : Oh? Because she said you were sweet and fun and a good friend and wicked smart

David broke out into another grin.

**David** : See, those are absolutely lies, and also, go on

**Patrick** : And beautiful.

**David** : She did not say that

**Patrick** : No, that must have been me

David shook his head and got out of bed. He used the bathroom and brushed his teeth and went and dug around in the fridge for something, anything to eat. He heard his phone chime again from the bathroom counter.

**Patrick** : Sorry. That was a bit much

**David** : Don’t be. Thank you. It’s my best quality

**Patrick** : I doubt that

David closed the text thread and ordered some lunch. What was he doing? This was clearly flirting. It wasn’t all that long ago that David wouldn’t have held back at all. He’d have already slept with Patrick if Patrick had wanted to, probably Wednesday night after meeting him that morning. 

“I am TRYING to be a better person, here,” he said to the empty apartment. 

His food arrived, and he ate sitting on one of the kitchen stools, going through work emails. A few bites on Rebecca’s work, he’d have to respond to those today so he could finalize any sales before the weekend. The pieces would stay until the end of the run, but the more that had SOLD signs on them, the more people were motivated to grab ones they liked.

oOo

The run of the show flew by. David and Samantha sat down with the contract and looked it over, Patrick sent some numbers (and David assured Samantha he wasn’t looking for anything close to what it was worth), and Rebecca sold 90% of the pieces in her show.

And then he came home the Tuesday after the final show, and Stevie was in his apartment with three bottles of wine.

“Stevie?” he asked, walking over to the couch. She was already well into the first bottle, and he could see her eyes were red.

“My aunt died. My mom’s sister Maureen.”

David pulled her over to lean against him. “I’m sorry,”

Stevie sniffled and sipped her wine. “There’s more.”

“Okay…”

“She left me the motel she owns. In Ontario.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, middle of nowhere Ontario in a town called, and you will not believe this, Schitt’s Creek”

David laughed. “That can’t possibly be true.”

“Oh, it absolutely is. And David?” she turned and looked up at him. “I’m thinking about keeping it.”

“Oh, that would be cool. Could bring you in some extra income and…”

He trailed off, seeing the look in Stevie’s face and realizing what it meant. “You’re leaving.”

She sighed. “David, I miss Canada. It’s not Toronto, it’s not home, but it’s drivable. I don’t have any family left…”

David raised an eyebrow

“Okay, yes, I have you. And I appreciate so much that you’ve always treated me like family, even after Grandma Adelina died. B ut we’ve been in New York for two years and I loved coming here with you and I am so thankful for the opportunity you gave me to try it out. But it’s just not for me. I’ve known that for a while, but I didn’t really have any reason to go back, either.”

“And now you do,” said David, casting his eyes down.

“Yeah.”

David reached over, taking her wine glass and downing it.

“Hey, get your sloppy mouth out of my wine.”

“Fuck, Stevie. I’m in the middle of handing over my gallery to Samantha, and now you’re leaving? I may as well go out to California to be near my parents.”

Stevie scrunched up her nose. “You do NOT mean that.”

“No. But it will be weird. The last time I was alone in New York was a decade ago, and I eventually left.”

He thought back to the time in his early 20s when he decided New York was exciting and full of opportunities and a great queer scene, and it was going to be perfect. And then he’d fucked his way through that queer scene, picked up an expensive coke habit, put down an expensive coke habit, and gone back to Toronto and Alexis and Stevie. If he was honest with himself, he was afraid that untethered in New York - no job, nothing to do - he’d end up being what he was then. A rich, spoiled socialite. 

But he was thirty-mumble god damned years old and he could be an adult. He’d been an adult for a year and a half now! Stevie leaving didn’t change that, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t visit her anytime he wanted. It’s not like money was an object. His parents still paid off the cards they’d given him - or rather their accountant did, since his parents had no idea how much money they had or where it went, only that it was a bottomless well.

David pulled Stevie into his arms, cuddled up on the couch, and if a few tears fell into her hair, she didn’t comment on it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for another slow update! Things have been really busy around here. Have a Patrick and David not-a-date!

A few weeks later…

Patrick: I don’t feel like cooking for one, you want to get dinner tonight?

Yes, yes he very much did. And dessert. 

David: Sure. You want to come by my place? We can order something in and chill here? I’m not really up to going out.

And he wasn’t. It was true. And yet that tiny tingle in the back of his head, the one that for most people would be loud WARNING klaxons with strobing lights told him that it was also an excuse.

He was getting better at listening to that tingle, but he was still David Rose.

Patrick: Sounds great, send me an address.

David: Want me to send my driver?

Patrick: No, that’s not necessary.

So David sent him the address, and they agreed on 7:00, and David paced his apartment for twenty minutes. 

He took a long shower after that, basking in the heat and the steam to get his head on straight. You will not facilitate someone else’s cheating. You will not be some “straight” guy’s secret side dick. You will not be someone’s gay experiment, where they flee the apartment as soon as your done and they realize what it means about them. Those had been frequent in the past, and always unsatisfying, but not enough to stop him from doing it.  
He thought about Richard. He and Richard had fucked for months last year, every chance Richard had. The sex had been top notch. Eventually, Richard came clean that he’d been cheating on his wife, but he was afraid he’d get caught. David had felt horrible about that, the guilt had eaten at him, even though he hadn’t known, and would have had no way of knowing. It had been a casual thing, they hadn’t exactly discussed their personal lives. That was one of the things that made him start thinking about cleaning up his act a bit. There was also Pedro, closeted, who wouldn’t so much as smile at David in public, but would systematically take him apart and leave him wrecked in the bedroom. David ended that one. No one should ever be forced out of the closet, but there was only so long David could wait.

His entire shower was a parade of his checkered past, reminding him why he should absolutely not try to seduce Patrick tonight.

Patrick arrived exactly on time. David is unsurprised by this. David is pretty sure Patrick is the sort of person who arrives ten minutes early and lingers out of sight until the appointed time. David has never been punctual, he’s pretty sure that’s why his only job has been at the gallery, where he’s in charge and Samantha isn’t going to say a word if he strolls in at noon.

He let Patrick in and took his coat. He hung it up in the closet, although he was pretty sure Patrick would probably have been fine tossing it over a chair. David is fastidious about clothes, however. He can always afford new clothes, of course, but finding duplicates of designer pieces means hours online, tracking down ebay auctions and designer clothing resellers. Of course, David could afford a whole new wardrobe every season, always at the forefront of fashion, and he does buy a lot of new pieces. He grows accustomed to his clothing, however, finds comfort in the familiar feel of a mohair sweater, a skirt that skims his knees just right.

He idly wonders what Patrick would think if he saw David in a skirt. He certainly assumes David is gay - Stevie was right, almost everyone assumes that until he tells or shows them otherwise. But a lot of people who don’t think twice about same sex relationships still get hung up on gender norms.

“David?” Patrick’s voice pulls him back from his reverie, and he realizes he’s just been staring into the coat closet, lost in thought. He slaps a smile on his face and turns around.

“Oops, sorry about that. Got lost in my own head there for a minute.” Turning, he beckons Patrick to follow him across the room to the couch and the...

“Wow,” says Patrick, stopping dead in his tracks. “I figured you’d have a nice view from here but this is amazing.”

“Thanks,” David said, “It’s okay, I guess.”

“Okay, David,” says Patrick, and David has to bite his lower lip to keep from smiling. Although a smile might have been preferable, since Patrick’s eyes linger on his lips a little too long.

“Did you have anything specific in mind, or is there anything you don’t like?” he asked Patrick, pulling his phone out of his pocket to break the moment. “We can get almost anything delivered.”

Patrick appeared to blink himself back into reality. “I’m really not picky,” he said “I don’t know what you usually eat..”

David smiled. “Pizza it is. There’s this amazing little hole in the wall pizzeria on the next block and they don’t generally deliver but they will for me. Toppings?”

“Anything but anchovies.”

David made a face. “No one likes anchovies. I think anchovies on pizza is a conspiracy theory started by Big Fish to make people consider it. But no one actually eats it.”

Patrick laughs at this as David scrolls through his contacts. “Feel free to make yourself a drink. There’s some stuff on the bar cart over there or there’s a pretty fully stocked cabinet in the kitchen.”

Patrick wandered over and looked over the selection before picking up a glass and pouring himself some of the whiskey. David watched, remembering the last time he’d had any of that whiskey. He was saved from his wandering thoughts by the pizzeria answering the phone, and he placed an order for pizza and a salad and some breadsticks.

Patrick had made himself comfortable on the couch, staring through the windows. “They’re one way,” David said, as he contemplated his own before dinner drink. He made himself a vodka soda, with less vodka than he normally would. There would be wine with dinner, and he needed to stay in control of his emotions. 

“I still don’t think I could stroll around in front of them naked,” Patrick says.

It’s out of his mouth before he can stop it, “Oh, were you planning on being naked elsewhere in the apartment?”

Patrick chokes on his drink, and before he can recover, David apologizes. “I’m so sorry, sometimes my mouth and my brain aren’t communicating and things just..come out.” He sees the look on Patrick’s face. “Oh, fuck. I made it worse.”

Patrick smiled, able to breathe again, and just as he’s about to speak, the buzzer sounds, and the pizza is there. David leapt off the couch to get the door, thankful for the distraction. He busied himself getting everything set up on the table. Patrick came into the kitchen and David handed him a bottle of wine.. “Do you mind opening this?”

Soon they’re settled in at David’s seldom used table, laughing and drinking and eating. The awkwardness of before seems to have faded into the background, for which David is thankful. It feels comfortable and companionable and so of course David has to ruin it, because he can’t have nice things.

“Stevie is going back to Canada.”

“Oh? Wait, Stevie’s from Canada?”

David pauses. “Mmkay I just realized you’re missing a key bit of information. I grew up in Toronto, my parents still quote-unquote live there, although I don’t think they’ve been to that house in years, their LA house is getting a lot more use these days. Alexis and I have dual citizenship. Mom’s American and they made sure we were born here, since Canada will let you keep your US citizenship but the US would have made us give up our Canadian citizenship.”

“What a weird coincidence, me too. Here we are, two Canadian ex-pats running into each other like this,” Patrick says, and clinks his wine glass to David’s. 

David puts on a quick, fake smile and says, “So I’m actually really upset about it.” His voice goes up at the end, as if it’s a question, as if he’s still trying to give himself permission to be sad, which is probably pretty close to the mark, if he’s honest with himself. Which is something David tries very hard to avoid.

“She’s your best friend, David. It’s reasonable to be upset about it. Best friends are invaluable.” He stares over David’s shoulder for a moment, clearly lost in thought.”

“Yeah,” said David, taking another drink of his wine. “I am going to miss her terribly, we’ve spent most of our lives together. But the last time we were apart and I was in New York, it...it wasn’t a good scene for me. So on top of missing her, I’m actually really worried that I’ll revert to bad habits.”

Patrick nodded, as if he understood, when David knew this upstanding attorney in front of him could not possibly really understand the lifestyle David defaulted to. Most people thought that kind of life was made up for TV. 

David sighed. “I guess it’s time to find out if I’ve actually grown up or not.”

Patrick smiled at him, “David, I think you’re a better person than you give yourself credit for.”

“Says the man that’s known me for a month,” he says, trying to lighten the mood. “Speaking of, alone again? Is Rachel still visiting her parents?”

“Not still, again.” says Patrick, his face now dropping.

David freezes. “Mmkay, I didn’t realize that was going to be a sensitive question. Ignore me.. Do you need a refill?” He reached for the wine bottle, trying to find something to do with his hands, some way to change the subject. Sad Patrick was not something he was in any way equipped to deal with.

“Sure,” he said, picking up his glass and reaching it out to David. David filled his glass. Patrick took a sip, and set it down. “We’ve...honestly the last year has been like this. We break up, or take a break, or she “needs to get away” and then she’s back, or I’m back, or whatever. Something just always feels off, but we’re trying to figure it out.”

David nods. Now it was he pretending to understand something. David had not once had a relationship where the first speed bump wasn’t also the last. He couldn’t even imagine. “Well, that sounds very difficult,” he said, finally.

Patrick blew out a breath. “It really is.”

Silence descends as they finish their pizza. David splits the last of the wine into their glasses, and they move over to the couch. The sun had set, and Patrick walked over to the window, standing in front of it and sipping his wine. The city lights twinkled.

“I’ve been in NYC for years but I don’t think I’ve ever really appreciated the view,” he said finally, turning to sit down on the couch. They are at opposite ends, so David turns, crossing his long legs so he’s sitting facing Patrick. 

“Is it wrong that I’m jaded enough that I don’t even notice it half the time?” David asks. Patrick shrugs. 

“I mean, if you look at anything day after day, it eventually just becomes part of the scenery.” 

The thought floats through David’s mind that Patrick isn’t just talking about cityscapes.

“Next week is my last week at the gallery,” he finally says, breaking the silence. “Since the end of Rebecca’s show we’ve mostly just been prepping everything for Sam to take over, making sure she’s got a handle on everything. I think the gallery is in good hands. Did she tell you she’s keeping the name? I suppose she would have had to.”

Patrick nods. “Yup, Rose Gallery will remain Rose Gallery. She told me to get the paperwork ready for you both to sign, but I wasn’t sure when that was happening.”

David finished his wine and set the glass down on the side table. “Whenever she wants to, really.”

Eventually, conversation shifted topics. Patrick talked about his childhood, growing up an only child in an idyllic suburban setting David has only ever seen on tv. How he and Rachel have been dating since high school, and engaged since he was halfway through his bachelor's degree, but they’d put it off until he finished, and then put it off while he got his MBA, then while he went to law school, and now he’s been out of law school for three years and they really need to set a date, but considering they can’t go a month without either breaking up or not speaking to each other for days, it seems ill-advised. 

“No, that doesn’t seem like a recipe for a good marriage,” said David. “As dysfunctional as my family is, my parents’ marriage has always been such an inspiration for me. They are very different, and both tied up in their own things - Dad with Rose Video and now with some philanthropic work, Mom with her acting - but they always come back to each other, there’s this solid base. I’ve never had anything like it.”

Patrick talked a bit more about his parents - Marcy and Clint - and how they too have set the bar high for Patrick, which is why he keeps putting off marrying Rachel.

Eventually, Patrick looked at his watch. “Oh, wow, it’s 11:30. I should get out of your hair.”

David shrugged, “Well, you know, it was either hang out with you or be forced to go hobnob with NYC’s socialite elites.”

“Well, I hear the pizza is better here, so.”

“Definitely better pizza.” David’s face softens. “And company.”

Patrick’s face lights up in a way that sets off alarm bells that even David can hear, so he stands up from the couch and picks up their empty wine glasses. “Do you want me to have Bryan take you home?”

Patrick stood and followed David into the kitchen. “Actually, you know what, I’d really appreciate that.”

“He gets paid enough to be at my beck and call, I never mind helping friends out.” David pulls his phone out of his pocket and texts Bryan. “Just give him your address when he gets here and he’ll get you home safe and sound.”

“Excellent, thanks.” 

David turns to wash the wine glasses while Patrick leans against the counter. “I had a really good time, thanks for inviting me over. I don’t get out much.”

David huffs. “And I should get out less, so this was perfect.”

He grabs a lint free towel out of one of the drawers and dries the wine glasses off. “The rest of the dishes can go in the dishwasher but these are the good wine glasses,” he says, grinning.

“Ooh, I rated the good wine glasses,” says Patrick, his eyes twinkling. “How’d I get so lucky?”

Because I grabbed the wrong ones because I was so nervous about having you here. “Seems silly to drink a $200 bottle of wine out of the cheap glasses I use when I’m binging rom coms and going through cheap wine like water.”

Patrick’s eyes bulge out. “That was a two hundred dollar bottle of wine?”

David shrugs. “I had company. Like I said, I save the cheap stuff for when it’s just a means of getting alcohol into my system.”

David’s phone buzzes. “Oh, that’d be Bryan. He’ll be waiting downstairs, let the doorman know you’re taking my car and he’ll point you in the right direction.”

David goes and gets Patrick’s coat, handing it to him. “Goodnight, David,” 

They freeze, each with a hand on Patrick’s coat. “Goodnight, Patrick,”

He closes the door behind Patrick and leans against it, clunking his head against the metal. He is so, so fucked. 

“Right,” he says to the empty apartment. “Do not do that again.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's short, but we've got to get this plot a-movin'.
> 
> The sun is shining and it's above 40F after weeks of below freezing temps, and I for one am loving the hell out of it, even if I'm stuck inside working.

“I wish you would have let me throw you a going away party,” said David for the third time in as many hours.

“David, I do not want a going away party,” Stevie responded for the third time in as many hours.

They had been day drinking at David’s apartment all day Friday. The movers had taken everything out of Stevie’s apartment the day before, and she was staying with David until Saturday, when Bryan would take her to the airport.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the only person in New York I want to say goodbye to, and we’re here. We can spend all day drinking and smoking, which is exactly what I wanted.”

David sighed.

“...or watch rom coms, or sleep all day, or whatever we want. You’re my best friend, and you’re the only person I’m going to be sad to leave.”

David cast his eyes down, unable to accept the compliment, but still preening at it.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me for a motel in Schitt’s Creek,” David topped off their wine glasses.

“You have a plane ticket to visit me in a month. By the time I get settled in you’ll be there. Fly into Toronto, I’ll pick you up, it’ll be like I never left.

“Except we’ll be in some podunk town in rural Ontario instead of New York City. Definitely the same thing.” David rolled his eyes and slumped back on the sofa.

Stevie sipped her wine.. “You’ll survive. I promise. And you can call me anytime you want.”

Later, when Stevie went to get ready for bed, she saw David had moved her bag out of the guest room and into his room. She poked her head out into the living room. “Are we having a sleepover?”

David was cleaning up the mess of bottles and glasses on the coffee table. “Well, I know how much you like my bed,” he mumbled, not meeting her eyes. Stevie smiled softly at him.

For the first time Stevie could remember, she was the little spoon, David’s long limbs wrapping around her like an octopus, as if he could single handedly keep her in NYC if he just didn’t let go.

David rode to the airport with Stevie on Saturday afternoon. He got home, refused to let himself cry, and took himself to bed.

He didn’t get out of bed all day Sunday other than to slink to the en suite and back.

He was awoken by a phone call from the doorman Monday around noon. “Food delivery,”

“I didn’t order any food,” said David “But if it’s got my name on it, send it up. I’m starving.”

He threw on some black joggers and a plain white tee shirt, shoving a knit cap over his unruly hair. He retrieved the food and was just starting to open the containers when he heard a text come in.

Patrick: Stevie said she hasn’t heard from you since she told you she was safe at the motel, and said it probably meant you weren’t taking care of yourself. I know it’s hard without the gallery or Stevie, but know that you’ve still got a friend in town. - P

Staring at his phone, David struggled to process all the emotions he was having at once. After not having eaten for a day and a half, he was starving. He was missing Stevie. He was touched that Stevie had asked Patrick to check up on him, and he was amazed that Patrick had.

And his stomach was doing that whole butterflies crush-on-the-unobtainable thing.

David: Going through a lot right now, yeah. Thanks for the food. Talk later?

Patrick: Anytime

David ate and showered and was feeling somewhat human again. He took a selfie and sent it to Stevie

David: Proof of life. How’s Shitsville?

Stevie: Schitt’s Creek, and it’s fine. There’s a little studio apartment upstairs from the lobby but I’m hoping to find a place somewhere else.

She sent a string of photos - the outside of the motel, a couple of the rooms, an overgrown field out back. The motel looked like it had been old when his parents got married in ‘81, and not in the fun vintage or retro way, just...old.

David: That’s certainly a roadside motel

Stevie: So what did Patrick send you to eat? 😍🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

David: Thai, and oh my god enough with the eggplants

Stevie: 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕👉👌👉👌🍆🍆🍆🍑🍑🍑🍑🦴🦴🦴🕹🕹🛌🛌🎉🎉🎆🎇

David: I’m putting my phone down now. I don’t even know what you mean by some of those.

David took his laptop back to bed and fired up Interflix, grabbing a rom-com at random and letting himself forget about everything for a couple hours.


End file.
